Markiplier: Trapped In Fiction
by livingheaven
Summary: A teenage girl wakes up in a dark, damp cellar with her actions inexplicably being controlled by a voice in her head.


A voice.

A voice was all it took to pull me out and under. It was one of those niggling voices, the kind you can't tell from your own thoughts. But it sounded like something, like a deep, booming calm in an ocean of velvet. It still overtook me the way that obsessive thoughts do.

"As she lies there in the dust, the room starts to fill in around her. Shapes and colours emerge from her grogginess; though all she can see is the colour black."

I stared out into an abyss, all corners of the space obscured by pure darkness. I frantically patted myself down to make sure that I was still there. When I moved my arms, the air around me stayed rigid instead of hurriedly moving out of the way. The only thing I could place myself with was the floor; the cold concrete bit into my back, and the coating of dust clung to my body for dear life.

"Just as she is about to resign herself to nothingness, a spot of bright yellow light beams down from a ceiling lamp directly above her own head."

A circle of light encased me, almost like a profile spot. Its reach spread out across the room, stopping just before the four walls. I hastily scanned the place, drinking in everything I could before the voice spoke again. It didn't take long; aside from a concrete pillar at each corner, the room was entirely empty. Tucked into the left hand corner of the room was a rickety wooden staircase. I pulled myself up into sitting position, offering my back some relief from the cold floor.

"She stands up in the glaring light, hesitant to wander beyond its protection."

Something started to form in the forefront of my mind. It was like an itch that I'd have to smash my skull apart to scratch. All at once, my body began to protest against the way I was sitting. The ground become unbearably uncomfortable, like I'd been sitting there for hours. Another voice, more closely hooked into my own thoughts- but not _quite_ from my own mind- screamed, ' _Stand up._ '

I did. I had to. Every fibre of my being demanded it.

"She lingers in the endless silence, a crystallised draft chilling the hairs on her arms. Her gaze inevitably drifts towards the wooden staircase leading up from the cellar. It whispers to her, a quiet ember of hope in the engulfing darkness."

I looked at the staircase- there was no point in fighting it. Whoever was speaking, his words pushed me for some reason. At best, they compelled me to do his bidding. At worst, they forced me. I couldn't figure it out; my head was overrun by parasites.

"She gulps down a potent mix of fear, anxiety and anticipation. What would lie beyond the cellar door, and more to the point, what would be waiting for her? She gives a sombre glance back at the light. Between her and the door lies an expanse of darkness, just too big to clear in one fell swoop."

In the area past where the beam could touch, I couldn't see anything. Faint illumination crept through the cracks in the door, lighting up the first few steps. The rest of it was shrouded in darkness, but somewhat visible. The same couldn't be said for the space in between.

I looked up, expecting there to be a speaker or _something._ The Voice sounded so clear in my head, as if he were right beside me- or on top of me. But between the cracks of my unwanted visitors, I managed to think. _I see what you're playing at._

"Her blood runs cold as she ponders about what she's truly getting herself into." _Monsters. Demons. Somebody has me, somebody's trapped me. Shit, he's got my thoughts too._ "It slowly occurs to her that if she doesn't collect herself, she could be spending the rest of her days here." _Not a fun thought._ "So, as she swallows the last morsel of debilitating fear, she takes the first step out into the unknown."

Everything in me hit the floor. After that first step, I bolted to the wall and felt around for the handrail. It was a mangled old thing, littered with almost undone nails and spiky splinters. For a brief moment, I was actually grateful to the Voice for giving me shoes. I worked myself up the stairs, but I didn't think it wise to keep up the same pace. Each board was ridiculously thin, chipped away after years of constant use. I set my feet sideways across them as I climbed. Every second I spent being careful felt like an hour just standing there, waiting for something to catch up to me.

"Overcome by a sudden determination, she sprinted up the wooden staircase. As she came to the top step, she basked in the warm glow emanating from the cellar door." The Voice was a little more airy and uplifted this time. I could hear his grin in his words. _Bastard._ "For a brief heartbeat, she felt safe as the door invited her in." Despite my internal protests, I started to smile. This wasn't too bad. At least there was a lovely Voice narrating my kidnapping. Most kidnapping victims didn't get any of that. In fact, most of them didn't even-

"But the feeling didn't last."

A few seconds of jarring silence followed. Even the parasitic thoughts in my mind shut up for just a little while. But then, ever so slowly, a sound bled through the door. It started as a buzzing sound- quiet and inconsequential- but as it got louder, it transformed into a deep, guttural moan. Chills ran down from my shoulder bone to my lower back. I took a gentle step back, almost missing the wooden ledge.

"Once again filled with an inexplicable determination to continue, she reached out for the door handle and ventured into the next room."

I made my hands into fists and shoved them in my pockets. My eyes shut tight. Eternity passed.

"…I _said_ , 'once again filled with an _inexplicable determination_ to continue, she reached out for the door handle and ventured into the next room." The Voice got louder, and more irritable.

I shook my head, looking skyward. My head was pounding; the itch spread to my temples and snaked its way around the back of my mind.

"…No?" The word came out sickly sweet.

"Are you trying to fucking _kill_ me?" I shouted.

He let the room fall to silence for a moment.

"…Alright. _Jeez._ Hang on a minute."

I heard what could only be described as an eraser scratching against paper, as well as some busy muttering from the mouth where the Voice came from. It slowly occurred to me that he was somewhere; somewhere with a paper and an eraser, and not just some weird entity floating around here. So how in hell was I hearing him? How did he get inside my head? What was the point?

"Okay, this should work." The sound of a pencil scrawling across- I assumed- paper travelled down from wherever he was. He made a few more contemplative noises, muttering to himself in a voice too quiet for me to hear. "And then…alright. I think I've got it."

The wooden boards underneath me collapsed.

My stomach jumped into my mouth. The air I was falling through joined forces against me, slapping against my chest until it reached my ribcage. If my voice hadn't been stolen from me, I would have screamed, but right now it was all I could do to keep my body from breaking into pieces.

My arms got the worst of the fall. I spread them out on front of me just before I slammed into unpolished hardwood. Pain seeped through me like poison, gathering in pools and attacking my bones.

"Once again she finds herself face to the floor, but this time caught in an unbearable agony that sweeps through her entire being."

"Y-you did this on purpose!" My speech was slurred; I'd scraped my lips on the way down.

A deep, resonating chuckle echoed in my head. "As she lies there, seething through her pain, she realises that she won't be able to pull herself up again. She took too much damage from the fall, and now she is faced with the dreaded proposition of being trapped here- at least until she heals up. Taking a deep sigh, she sets her broken arms out of the way and pushes herself back by her feet. She eventually meets the wall, and leans back against it. This offers her a small moment of reprise, a quiet break from her terror. The room around her is not well-lit, but it is safe and peaceful. She takes a deep breath and allows her eyes to flutter shut."

Even if I wanted to fight against the last command, I was tired and beaten down. The Voice had a strange lulling effect when he wasn't throwing you through floors. It was nice to get a bit of a break. Something niggled at the back of my mind- my ears were still ringing from the fall. Residual intrusive thoughts kept my mind busy, even although he wasn't putting anything into my head. I still couldn't tell what was in my head and what was real. Especially when the ringing started to get louder, becoming like a fly buzzing around my head.

My eyes snapped open.

The room wasn't well-lit. The buzzing turned to a snarl. I pushed myself back against the wall, as if I could somehow fall through it. Pain twisted around my mind until it was in a death grip, slowly suffocating. A slow, quiet laughter filled out the back of my head.

The creature provided its own illumination.


End file.
